The Cloak and Dagger Society - Part One

The Cloak and Dagger Society

In the bar of the Cloak and Dagger an ominous silence had fallen. The nightly news on the decrepit TV above the bar, usually a source of visual muzak, was now the focus of a saloon bar full of eyes.
'Turn it up Gerald!', came a shout, and the portly barman duly obliged.
'.... Was released yesterday', blared the TV, 'due to lack of evidence. In a statement, Mr. Monk's lawyer David Stone said that this was a great day for British justice.'
A bald man in sunglasses and a dark suit was shown speaking from the courtroom steps.
'My client has reaffirmed his total innocence of the charges and is considering legal redress. For the time being however, he would appreciate a period alone to recover from the last week's traumatic experiences. Thank you.'
The hairless pate of the dark suited lawyer reflected the many lights from the camera crews surrounding him. Apart from his baldness it was an unremarkable face, a mask which could hide any kind of personality. With a final glance and a slight smile for the cameras the lawyer got into a black Mercedes and sped off.
'That was for us, the smug bastard!' shouted a small, thin men perched on the bar school.
'Calm down Charles' came a low calm voice from a table near the door. 'It's too late to do anything now.'
'It's all right for you,' spat the thin man. 'Bob was a mate of mine!'
'I know, I know' cooed the calm voice. 'He was a friend of everybody here. ' A low murmured assent greeted this. 'I just don't think there is anything we can do about it now. It's too late. Much too late.'
Charlie Walker readjusted his position on the bar-stool and glanced up again at the TV as a newsreader reviewed the case.
'G.G. Monk, the well-known philanthropist and businessmen was charged recently with the violent killing of Robert March, a private detective from Pimlico in London. Despite the fact that March was well-known to be investigating Monk with respect to his links the organized crime, and that one of Monk's known associates had openly threatened March on several occasions, no tangible evidence or reliable witnesses could be brought forward by the prosecution. The Chief Crown prosecutor, Mary Stone, formally handed in her resignation after the verdict, citing personal and family reasons. Mr. Monk, through the auspices of Stone Associates, is expected to initiate libel proceedings against March's widow and former business partner Petra March.'
There was uproar following this. Some glasses were smashed and even the pub dog, Ralph, barked ferociously at the TV.
'Gentlemen, ladies, please,' beseeched Gerald from behind the bar. The noise calmed to an angry murmur. A large man, about six feet tall and six feet round, emerged from the shadows. He walked slowly to the bar and turned around to face the other customers. He was the owner of the previously calm voice but now one could detect an undercurrent of suppressed anger.
'Gentlemen! Ladies!'
The low hubbub of voices ceased and all eyes turned to him.
The speaker was Hugo Dunn, head of 'Dunn and Co.', a private investigation firm based in Soho. Dunn was generally acknowledged as the best and most expensive investigator in England. His record was so impressive that the firm was collectively known as 'Dunn and Dusted.'
'Now I know how upset you all must be. I myself am not unmoved by the latest action of Mr. Monk.' The last two words were almost hissed. 'But I must warn you all,' and here he glanced around the bar making eye contact with each member of his audience, 'that any subsequent actions we take, either individually or collectively, must be carried out with extreme caution. We are all aware of Monk's,' and here he paused reflectively, 'activities.' 'We are also aware of the vast power he possesses, not only financially but in organised crime across the globe. A rash act made by any of us would result in them being squashed like flies, as well as bringing evil to anybody connected with them.'
An angry chorus greeted this, punctuated with raucous shouts and yells.
'However,' Dunn continued, and voices quietened. 'I do not propose to let this final insult go unpunished.' There were a few cheers and some scattered applause.
'As I said before, any actions taken by us must be well planned and deeply considered. I suggest that we hold an extraordinary meeting of the club committee. Bring all necessary materials you think you may require and be in the club room at, what shall we say, ten ‘O’ clock tonight.'
Dunn returned to his seat by the door, receiving pats on the back along the way, from which he flinched slightly. Charlie glanced once more up at the screen which was now filled with the smiling face of a grey-haired men in his mid-fifties, his eyes covered by dark sunglasses.
'We'll get you, you bastard,' growled Charlie. 'We'll make a case so tight that we'll be able to hang you on the wall with the other pond life.'
Charlie glanced at the stuffed pike over the bar which was grinning back at him. Charlie remembered the battle he had had, slowly reeling the thirty pound pike in, and the furious struggle it had put up before he had clubbed it on the back of the head with a piece of lead pipe. And as he stared at the monstrous fish, he seemed to see the fish's face metamorphosize into the face of G. G. Monk.

* * * *

The club room was located directly above the saloon bar of the Cloak and Dagger. The walls were paneled with dark stained wood, the carpet was plush maroon and the centrepiece was a long wooden table surrounded by eight elaborately carved chairs. On the walls were portraits of various distinguished looking men and women dating from the late 19th century right up to the present-day. The large oak door at the end of the room opened and Hugo Dunn entered, closing the door softly behind him.
Hugo Dunn's substance was symbolised not only by his frame but also by his manner. Every movement was slowly considered. In fact nobody in living memory had ever seen him move faster than three miles per hour in any direction of his own volition. His dark suit was immaculate, perfectly tailored to fit his huge bulk. He shirt shined bright, set off by gold cuff-links with a strange design, and a blue polka dot tie with a small gold badge at the centre, also of the same design. He was bald on top with long, grey, side-whiskers. His eyes were dark as onyx at the centre with bright white surround. The resulting penetrating stare could unnerve the hardest case. Even G. G. Monk himself had been known to be affected by Dunn's gaze.
Dunn opened a leather bound notebook with perfectly manicured hands and proceeded to draw up an agenda. He had been at the top of his profession for thirty years, and although not commonly known to the public was well-known to the police, the Justice authorities, government and the worldwide criminal fraternity. He had a direct line to the Home Office, the Deputy Commissioner of the Metropolitan police, Interpol and Stan Bomis, 'King of the Elephant and Castle,' an informer working out of South London and a key source of criminal intelligence.
During his long career Dunn had investigated everything from mail fraud to terrorist activity. His success rate was phenomenal. Even on the 'no prosecution, no fee' basis on which he operated, he was now a very rich man. Rich enough for money to cease to be a concern for anybody but his accountant. However, one person had always kept one step ahead at of him. Despite his efforts over many years - their careers had run side by side - G. G. Monk had always managed to escape Dunn's net. Dunn's pen pressed slightly harder on the paper as he wrote Monk's name.
Dunn glanced up as the door opened and a women entered, her rich chestnut hair cascading onto the shoulders of an elegant black suit.
'Mourning becomes you', said Dunn gently. 'I thought yesterday's service was very fitting.'
Petra March smiled back him and sat at one of the chairs opposite.
'I thought Monk's final thrust was particularly offensive. Are you concerned about the possible outcome?'
Petra's brow furrowed and the smile disappeared, a look of worry in her brown eyes.
'He could ruin me,' she said quietly. 'With the case found in his favour he could sue me for every penny. If he chose criminal libel I could end up in jail. I don't think I could stand that after what he did to Robert, what he's done to everybody who got close to him over the years. I wish I believed in hell. At least the thought of Monk burning for eternity would give some comfort as I count the bricks in the walls of my cell.'
'I'm sure it won't come to that,' said Dunn.
'Why not?' said Petra sharply. ''He always gets everything he wants. You should have seen the way he looked at me in court. Such contempt. Like I was a mosquito to be swatted for taking the microbes of his blood.'
'A mosquito can still kill a man,' said Dunn softly. 'Given the right circumstances and if that man is unprepared.'
Petra looked at him and stared deeply into the jet black eyes.
'Do you really think so? You think we can do something at last?'
'All I can say', said Dunn, returning her gaze, 'is that nobody here will rest until we do. All I can promise is that we will try our utmost.'
Petra's smile returned, if uncertainly, and she searched her handbag for a small electric fan. The room was oppressively hot.
'Maybe you could do something about the air-conditioning. That would be a start.' But she said it kindly, and Dunn took it as such.
'I'm afraid my investigation into the electrical fault is proving to be one of my most difficult cases,' he replied apologetically. He removed a pure white handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently wiped his brow. He glanced at his watch.
'It is almost time,' he said, glancing at his watch. 'I would appreciate if you could stay for the proceedings.'
'Of course,' said Petra, somewhat distractedly. 'I would like to help in any way I can.'
'You can be a great help,' said Dunn. 'You were fully conversant with all of Robert's investigations. I trust you have the files hidden away somewhere?'
'Yes' replied Petra, refocusing. ‘ Bob took copies of everything and stored them elsewhere. I'll give you the details later.'
'Excellent' said Dunn gently, his relief visible. 'At least we won't be working completely in the dark.'
They both looked towards the door as it opened, allowing three men and a woman to enter the room. They all nodded respectfully towards Petra before taking their seats around the table. Dunn finished what he was writing, placed his elegant gold pen along the spine of the club book, and looked up.
'Welcome ladies and gentlemen,' said Dunn, a smile fitting across his moon-like face. 'Thank you for coming at such short notice. I hope it was not too inconvenient?'
'After the news today it was the least we could do,' said a smartly dressed middle-aged lady sitting next to Petra.
'Thank you Clara,' said Dunn. 'I know how busy you are, especially with the Littlewoods case.'
'Anything for Robert' said Clara, and laid her hand over Petra's. 'And you my dear.'
Petra's eyes clouded slightly and she kissed Clara on the cheek.
'However, I don't think the two cases are unrelated. I can fill you in later.'
'That bastard had his finger in every foul hole this side of Calcutta,' rasped Charlie and sat to the left of Dunn. 'I wouldn't be surprised if it was him what shot Kennedy.'
'No, I think that case has been solved Charles,' said Dunn with a humorous look. 'And I don't think Oswald was quite up to the standard of personnel Monk would consider employing.'
'Still', muttered Charlie morosely. He looked up at Petra and his expression softened as his eyes met her's.
'Sorry love', he said, and then, glancing at her raised right-hand, 'could I borrow your fan. It's like an oven in here. Hugo, can't you fix that bloody air-con?'
'Sorry Charles,' said Dunn. 'Quite outside my area of expertise.'
'Yeah, you and Sherlock,' said Charlie laughing and receiving the fan from Petra.
'Solves the most difficult cases known to Mother Earth but neither of you could tie your own bloody shoelaces.'
Everybody laughed at this, especially the allusion to Dunn's fictional hero, until Dunn presently brought them all to order. He glanced around the table, taken in the various familiar faces he had known for many years. To his immediate right sat a man in his mid-thirties with fine fair hair, dressed smart-casual for the occasion in a blue open necked shirt and grey pleated trousers. His name was David Price, an investigator whose specialty was illegal traffic between Europe and India. His face was deeply tanned as he had recently returned from business in Mumbai.
'Welcome David. Good journey I trust? '
'I slept most of the way back,' said David, smiling. 'That's India for you. You go out for packet of cigarettes and come back three hours later soaking wet, covered in flowers and about fifty pounds lighter.'
Dunn laughed and glanced across the table to the man sitting the other side of Petra. He was a black man of West Indian extraction, but born in Islington, London. He wore his hair in short but intricately woven braids and was currently wearing jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the slogan "' Gooners for ever.'
'Deep cover Daniel?' Inquired Dunn, eyebrows raised.
'No Hugo. I've just been to the match. And I can tell you now, that was definitely hand-ball!'

* * * *

It was five minutes later, after a period of quiet but friendly expressions of greetings and small talk, that Dunn called the meeting to order.
‘Ladies and gentlemen’ he began. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to see so many familiar and welcome faces.’
‘Well Hugo’, said Clara in her deep warm voice.’ I think I can speak for everybody here when I say that the feeling is mutual.’
‘Thank you Clara’ said Dunn, stooping slightly forward into a small bow, the fingers of his hands modestly intertwined. ‘We certainly have a lot to talk about and I have arranged drinks and a meal for later on. We will have plenty of opportunity to…now how do my American friends put it? Ah yes. “Shoot the breeze”.’
“Pretty cool for a white guy” murmured Daniel, and Petra gave a short shriek of laughter.
‘Sorry Hugo’ said Petra, blushing.
‘I’m just happy to see that you can still see the funny side of things’ said Dunn, his eyes smiling. ‘However, we must suspend the forthcoming activities and turn our attention to today’s events, especially as they relate to the illustrious Mr. Monk.’
A thoughtful silence followed this. It was David who broke it.
‘You must already have something in mind Hugo. Else why gather such an eccentric, if illustrious cast’. He gestured towards the rest of the gathering.
Dunn, with pursed lips, considered David for a moment before rising from his chair and walking towards a projector which was perched on a desk in the corner of the room. He switched the projector on and a beam of light shot across the room onto a white section of wall. Dunn paused the film during the on-screen countdown and addressed his audience.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. David is correct in saying that the attendees to this meeting have not been chosen at random. Each of you has a particular skill, knowledge or aptitude that will be invaluable if we are to carry out this…’ and here he paused, ‘project successfully. Let me first turn to David himself. You are all aware, of course, of David’s connections at the Foreign Office and with the Metropolitan police, especially with connection to the trade in drugs and human traffic. During his many investigations, David has traveled extensively in northern India, and it is his contacts and knowledge of the area that will be particularly helpful.’
‘I wasn’t aware that Monk had business in India’, said David, his eyes glued to the flickering freeze-frame on the screen.
‘That is because he has, as always, been extremely careful to cover his tracks’ said Dunn. ‘But more of that later. Turning to Clara.’
All eyes turned to Clara who was staring at Dunn with a slight frown.
‘Clara Laski, as you all know, has worked with me for many years as a source of intelligence with regards to the upper echelons of society. One mention of her name has opened many doors for us and her contact list is a Who’s Who of the world’s power elite. What you may not know is that her artistry extends also to the dramatic. I believe your last role, Clara, was as a descendent of Tsar Nicholas II?’
Clara’s eyes widened with surprise and her mouth gaped slightly.
‘What even Clara does not know’, continued Dunn, ‘and something which I can reveal to her now is that I was instrumental in providing the false documentation.’
There was general laughter at this.
‘You kept that very close to your chest Hugo’, said Clara wryly. ‘Although I must admit the documentation was excellent.’
‘Well, I like to be thorough if nothing else’, said Dunn smiling. ‘Now, turning to Daniel Munroe’, and they all dutifully turned to Daniel who nodded back at them. ‘Daniel, as you know, deals with the finances of our small society as well as being the proprietor of our current premises.’
‘Really Daniel?’ said Petra, surprised. ‘I never took you for a landlord.’
‘I was given it in part payment for a job I did a couple of years ago” said Daniel. ’I mean, it’s not as though I needed the money.’
Murmurs of acknowledgement greeted this. He did not look it, in his Arsenal away shirt and denim jeans, but Daniel Munroe was one of the fifty richest men in Britain. Daniel had made his fortune in the I.T. industry as a security consultant, mainly by hacking into corporate databases and then offering a report to the companies telling them how it was done and how future breaches could be prevented. Through this work, Daniel subsequently had retained security clearance to some of the most confidential databases across the globe. His help to the society was invaluable as a source of up-to-date and verified information, and his financial backing was useful, to say the least.
‘Is this a backhand way of saying it’s my round?’ said Daniel with a grin.
The next five minutes was taken up with drinks orders which duly arrived. When the general hubbub had quietened down, Dunn continued.
“Finally, our beloved Petra.’ Petra lowered her eyes to the table under the sympathetic gaze of the company.
‘Before her, and our, great loss, Petra worked closely with her husband Robert on many discreet enquiries, and like Clara is another member of the Equity union. Although most famous for her critically acclaimed Portia at Stratford a number of years ago, in my opinion her most successful role was her performance as the intermediary for a Lebanese arms shipment seized by Israeli and UK forces last year.’
There were gasps of astonishment at this.
‘But I thought the go-between’s name was Anna Bisleri?’ said David. ‘I even met her, if only briefly.’
‘The coffee is good at the Hotel Metropole, yes?’ said Petra, in a heavy Russian accent.
‘My God!’ roared David, laughing now. ‘You are good. I was sitting opposite you for about fifteen minutes and I didn’t have a clue.’
‘You rarely see what you don’t expect’ said Petra, speaking normally now.
‘OK my friends’ said Dunn loudly over the general talk. ‘Down to business.’ The lights were extinguished and Dunn started a projector, shining it onto a screen at the opposite end of the table. Against a backdrop of mountains splashed gold by afternoon sunlight, and holding center stage amongst a group of besuited, asian-featured gentlemen, was G.G. Monk. This first image produced almost a growl of anger from the watching assembly.
‘Here is Monk during a visit to the hill-station town of Shimla in Northern India. His proclaimed purpose for the visit was to bestow a substantial grant to the medical college and hospital that dominates the heights over the town. Monk did indeed give the money, a sum I believe in excess of £50,000, but the real purpose of his visit relates to this man.’
The film had been focused for some time on a man to the side of Monk and here Dunn paused the projector. The man was taller than Monk, perhaps six feet to Monk’s five ten, and his close cropped black hair, fading to grey at the sides, atopped a dark, heavy set, unsmiling face with eyes like a shark.
‘This is Gulma Laxhmi, Monk’s head of asian operations whose base is in the remote Kinnaur Valley near the Tibetan border. I suspect he is given a long leash by Monk to avoid guilt by association. However, information has come to me regarding a close relative of his, Chavinder Laxhmi, who is hungry for power and is ready to usurp Gulma, given the opportunity.’
David stared for some time at the image and then spoke up. ‘I guess this is where I come in.’
‘Exactly’ said Dunn. ‘I am aware of your familiarity with the region and that you are known purely in those parts as an official of the British Council. I need you to get close to Chavinder and see what you can find out regarding Gulma’s and therefore Monk’s operations in the region. Daniel has arranged flights and accommodation in Shimla. We also have arranged cover for you, namely as an official presence at the opening of the new passport office in Shimla. There will be a few Indian government officials in attendance, but your presence, as a courtesy visitor from the UK, is a common occurrence and should go unremarked. Are you happy David to undertake this investigation?’
‘Of course’ said David.
‘I’ll sort you out with the details of the flight times and other gumpf’ added Daniel.
‘OK’ said Dunn. ‘ We move onto the UK part of our operation.’
Dun restarted the film which held on the original group of men for a moment or two before switching to a familiar scene to them all; a news clip of a half empty House of Commons. The camera focused on a male MP, standing and addressing the house. The film was paused again.
‘This is Vincent Stacey, MP for Tooting and Mitcham. He is shown here making a speech in the house on the 14th July last year, speaking in support of continuing the carrying out of scientific tests on animals. Undeclared in the house’s register of member’s interests, and unknown to his parliamentary colleagues, is the fact that Stacey is sponsored, via a series of offshore companies, by Oxford Humanistic Sciences, a company whose sole business is the testing of medicine and cosmetics on animals. The major shareholder of the company is G.G. Monk.’
Clara spoke up. ‘I believe I met Stacey and his wife at a cocktail party last year.’
‘And I am hoping you made your usual impression’ said Dunn with a slight smile. There was general amusement at this but Clara remained cool.
‘So you would like me to put a further strain on their relationship?’
Even Dunn had to laugh at this. ‘According to the rumours concerning the current state of their marriage, the ties that bond are already at breaking point. It is my belief that the situation is ripe for exploitation. My guess is that if an invitation were made by you Clara for them both to attend one of your infamous social events, and if certain expectations were to be assumed by our quarry, then the bird may be persuaded to sing some interesting tunes.’
‘Very subtly put Hugo’ said Clara, almost to herself. Then more loudly: ‘Very well. I will organise something for next weekend.’
‘Excellent’ said Dunn, beaming now at the company. ‘Petra, you must keep a low profile as obviously you are known to Monk. For the time being both you and Daniel will be working closely with me in order to co-ordinate the investigation.’
Dunn moved over to the projector and turned it off, then turned the room lights back on. The rest of the group talked quietly amongst themselves as more drinks were served, eventually all settling down to the sumptuous meal the Cloak and Dagger had provided.
After the meal, and as whiskies and brandies were passed around, the group split into two: the men focused on Daniel’s explanation for Arsenal’s recent defeat at the Emirates Stadium, leaving Clara and Petra to talk.
‘It must be lonely in that huge house by yourself my dear’ said Clara, looking intently into Petra’s eyes.
‘Yes it is’ said Petra softly, sadly gazing into her glass. ‘I wish I had yourself-sufficiency and love of solitude.’
‘It does have its advantages’ Clara agreed. ‘But even I suffer pangs of loneliness at times. It’s the human condition.’
‘Have you never thought of building a relationship?’ Petra asked, raising her eyes to meet Clara’s.
‘Of course’ replied Clara, smiling back. ‘And sometimes it starts well, and the other person starts to get inside me. But something within me , my private self I suppose, revolts against it and I flee the scene. Perhaps it was because I never met anybody like Robert.’
Petra’s eyes misted over and she looked down again at her glass.
‘I loved him so much. Sometimes when I think of him it just makes me want to give up. I can’t imagine the future without him.’
Clara’s eyes hardened. ‘Hold on my love. I will do everything in my power to help bring this monster’s head to you on a plate. Just think of what he has done to you, and others before you. Let it put a little iron into your soul.’
‘You are right of course’ said Petra, composing herself and looking up again. ‘We all have a duty to make him suffer for all that he has done, and may do in the future if we let him.’
‘That’s the spirit’ whispered Clara, placing her hand gently over Petra’s. ‘Now let me refresh your glass.’
Daniel’s exposition was now winding down with invites offered to watch the next match from his corporate box at the stadium: accepted with enthusiasm by David and with slightly more ambivalence by Dunn.
‘Come on Hugo’ cajoled Daniel. ‘ If you don’t enjoy the match at least you’ll enjoy the refreshments at half time.’
‘Very well my friend’ said Dunn resignedly. ‘I will buy myself a scarf and sing along.’
Everybody laughed uproariously at this, imaging Dunn’s deep baritone extolling the virtues of Arsenal’s back four and disparaging the visiting team. Hugo then stood and addressed the company.
‘I know you are all aware of the dangerous course we have chosen to follow. I also know that as friends of Robert and Petra, you are all determined to follow it through the almost certainly bitter end. I commend you all and may your gods go with you.’ With that, Dunn raised his glass. ‘To Robert and Petra.’
‘Robert and Petra’ intoned the others, and they all drank.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much,’ said Petra, her voice breaking, and as her eyes filled again Clara placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.
‘Courage my love’ she said softly. ‘We will see this through together.’
The company then stood and filed out of the room leaving Dunn alone, staring into space. He had told them as much as he had dared, but he knew that the course they had chosen to follow would be far more dangerous than his friends, experienced and brave as they undoubtedly were, could possibly imagine. Monk was ruthless, self-possessed and immensely powerful. One slip by any of them could mean death, or worse, for them all.
Eventually Dunn broke out of his reverie and summoned the waiters to clear the table. He then left, the huge oak door closing softly behind him.